Decrypt Me
by xKaicho
Summary: Uhhhh it's not even close to done yet. Here's some angsty Spiderbyte. Hope ur happy Amy Cover picture is by the amazing artbytesslyn. Actually, a lot of her work inspired this, so go check her out!


_Bzzzzzt _

The last traces of smoke started to dissipate away in the lifeless night air. All of the lights, dimmed to a minimum, would otherwise lead people to believe that the residence was no longer occupied. Most nights in the château were like this, which led to some pretty twisted rumors about who was the occupant of the residence. Among the many, only one had some truth to it. Many said that if you were to sail out near the island on a calm night, you can see a woman in white floating around, searching endlessly for something unknown.

_Bzzzzzt_

The creepiest part, however, is that if it is silent enough, you might be able to hear the quiet screams and sobs of the tragic woman. Unbeknownst to the public, they were actually right about that. The woman in the manor was tragic. And she did spend most nights screaming and crying. But, she wasn't looking, she was running _from_ something.

_Bzzzzzt_

Amélie threw her head back from the table as her cellphone lit up a glowing magenta. Finishing her deep inhale, she wiped the remaining white residue from her nostrils and snubbed out the butt of her cigarette in the pile to the right of her. In the distance, a hushed classical tune danced in the empty corridors. The insistent buzzing on the wood enraged the woman, as it interrupted the small comfort that the music was bringing. There was only one guess to be had as to who was ringing her and she really did not feel like being bothered at the moment; but then again, when did she ever feel like being bothered? Annoyance was one of the very few emotions that would break through the surface of her mental conditioning. But in the weeks following takedown of Talon, there had been no reconditioning. No reprogramming. No nothing. It allowed for some long foreign emotions to slip their way through the cracks of her very fragmented psyche.

As the freezing purple thumb mashed the ignore button on the screen, the woman stood up and flung the device at the nearest wall, causing little pieces of it to scatter across the wooden floor. Amélie had been ignoring Sombra's attempts to reach her ever since they both escaped the clutches of Talon; parting ways soon after the whole takedown began, as to lower the suspicion that the two had been involved in the execution of the plan. With their deaths, faked of course, being reported on the news in the following days, along with Doomfist, Reaper, and the various other heads of Talon and their numerous foot soldiers, Sombra soon began to seek out Widowmaker.

Since then, Widowmaker had decided that because she had left that part of her life behind her, she would also leave behind the name that haunted her and the many, many victims of her Widow's kiss. Just as Talon, Widowmaker was no more.

Grabbing her wine glass, Amélie slowly walked over to the balcony, where the white drapes were stirring in the wind. _"Maybe this is why those idiots out there have that stupid rumor about this place..._" she thought to herself, shaking the thought off almost as fast as it came to her. As it were, her mind was racing to extremes. Cocaine tended to have that effect on people, Amélie included. Most of the other effects of it on her body were still unknown. Is there a risk of it reactivating some long severed connection in her brain? Would the increase to her heart rate cause her genetically-slowed heart to rupture? She surely hoped so.

Almost everything Amélie did nowadays was in hopes it would put an end to the constant mental anguish she was in. The constant drinking, the endless pills; anything and everything she could get her hands on to suppress the piercing emotions and memories that clawed at her skull, pleading to be unleased.

Being proud of herself was something that both Amélie and Widowmaker had in common. Taking her own life was absolutely not an option, for either of the two. Amélie had believed that suicide was beneath her. She felt as if it was an act of cowardice, and a coward she was not. On the other hand, Widowmaker would not let herself be taken by something as trivial as a thought. But as the days grew, those thoughts became more enticing. The longer she went without reconditioning, the more Amélie shrieked from within, and that was excruciating. They were both so exhausted. The mental tug-of-war for control of the singular body they shared left each at their wits' end. Eventually, they shared a thought.

"_If an accident should befall us, then there's nothing that we could have done, right?_"

Uncoincidentally, there were a few overdoses since then. Throwing caution to the wind, every morning, day, and night was spent consuming as many substances as her body could stomach before it took its own procedures to ensure survival. Amélie cursed herself each time she woke up alive the next day, covered in whatever she had retched upon herself the night before.

Taking sips of her wine, she gazed into the waters beneath her. There wasn't much motion, as the breeze was light that evening, but occasionally a small crash against the bedrock could be heard. A quiet sigh was lost in the wind. All of a sudden, a silver candelabra struck the floor.

"Leave. Now." Amélie quipped.

"Shit," Sombra said, while uncloaking, "Guess I lost my touch since leaving, huh, Widow-"

"Don't you EVER fucking call me that again. Do you understand me? Now get out."

Sombra threw her backpack to the ground and started to walk forward, "Alright. Amélie, or whatever. I was just-"

The words she heard in return caused her to freeze mid-step.

"Did you not fucking hear me or are you too stupid to understand? Get the fuck out. I never want to see your fucking face again. I won't repeat myself."

Taking a half step backwards and throwing up her hands, Sombra started to reassess how she was going to rope Amélie in. She wasn't sure if pressing the issue would cause her to become more enraged than she already was, but she knew for sure that she couldn't ignore what she came here for. She decided that somewhere in between assertive and begging would most likely be the best course of action.

"Amé. Please. Hear me out, just for a little bit. It's important."

"I told you already. I want nothing to do with you! I thought I could escape you but clearly I was wrong. Just let me be wrong. ALONE."

"I would have came sooner, but I figured that you'd have acted like you're acting now. It's been 8 weeks, Amélie. Please just talk to me."

Amélie finally turned herself around and leaned upon the stone railing, steadily cupping her glass. She took a long sip. "I figured you must have been watching me, just like you always were back at…." She stumbled over her words. "…_Talon_." It's as if the word itself was refusing to come out of her mouth, but she forced it anyways. "Always watching. That's all you ever did, right? Never intervening. Always putting your nose into things that didn't concern you, but turning a blind eye to those who needed you."

"If you're talking about your reconditioning, you _know_ I couldn't have helped you. Shit, they probably would have done the same thing to me! Actually, even worse for disobeying orders! And don't think for even a second that seeing what they did to you didn't make my stomach turn."

"And yet, you still did nothing. Like a coward." She let out a small laugh. "But, if you've been watching me this entire time, you could have clearly seen that I am doing just perfectly _fine_. So there was no need to check up on me or whatever it was you came here for." Amélie then brought the edge of the glass up to her lips.

It was just a quick motion, but it was just enough for Sombra to catch a glimpse of the long, silver scars that peeked out from her black sleeves. She winced at the sight of them. _"Fuck. She's way worse that I thought. Maybe I should have come quicker…"_ Sombra had witnessed the many atrocities Amélie had been putting herself through over the weeks, but she had never seen the deliberate self-harming.

"Jesus, Amé. Look at you. You're fucking destroying yourself. I know how you keep yourself awake for days at a time. Why are you doing this? I came here to help, so please if you just-"

"Help? _Help_? Are you fucking kidding me?" Amélie couldn't help but to laugh. As she finished, she crashed the bowl of the glass against the stone pillar. Lunging towards Sombra, Amélie only stopped when she grabbed her by the back of her neck. With her right hand, she took the jagged stem of the glass and instead of holding it against Sombra's, she forced it against her own carotid. "If you actually wanted to help me you would have put me out of my misery in those sessions _years_ ago! Fuck, you could have came weeks ago! There's no helping now. You have _no_ idea what I see! None! And you never could!"

Sombra interjected, "I can help you, Amélie! Please, you have to understand. I left you because I thought that's what you wanted. Everything we've been through, it's traumatic, no? I thought some space might do some good. But clearly I was wrong and I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're _sorry?_ That's fucking rich."

Pushing Sombra back, Amélie thrusted the jagged stem into her own neck and removed it just as quick. A small laugh quietly escaped her mouth.

"You've watched me this entire time without doing anything. Well, watch this."

Just as quickly as the first stab, Amélie thrusted the bloody stem in the opposite side of her neck. After ripping it out, she threw it to the ground. Crimson pieces of crystal sprinkled across the floor. Unable to hold herself up anymore, Amélie fell to her knees.

"NO!" Sombra screeched. She ran a few steps to the fallen woman and slapped her hands to the wounds, in hopes of plugging them up and stopping the bleeding. "Amélie why? Why would you do this? Fuck!" The slippery liquid pushed its was out and dripped from Sombra's hands. She gazed behind her, spotting the backpack she had brought along with her. Sombra began to get up to run over to the bag, but was stopped when she heard the ghostly words coming from Amélie's mouth.

"I'm…tired…."

"Nononononono, Amélie. You stay awake, you stay with me!"

"That's….that's not what I meant." Words were getting harder and harder for her.

As much as Sombra wanted, _needed_, to hear what Amélie was saying now, she realized that if any action wasn't taken now, she wouldn't be able to hear what Amélie was going to say later. So, she got up and ran to the entrance of the room and snatched her bag from the floor. She came prepared, but she wasn't exactly sure she came prepared for _this_. Before she came charging back to Amélie, she stopped in her tacks and was stunned from the scene that lay before her. Amélie on her knees, hand to the ground and head hanging. Blood cascading from the wounds on both sides from her neck. In an odd fashion, it almost seemed as if she was praying. Amélie's pristine white pants, now a new Jackson Pollock. And the pools of red around her growing ever larger.


End file.
